The night of the U.S. election, I stayed committed to attending my Tuesday night yoga class. What I love about this class is the spiritual teachings that are shared and applied to physical practice, on and off the mat. This teacher has been leading us through the yamas and niyamas, and the topic that night was tapas. The Sanksrit word tapas means heat, or to burn. In yoga this refers to the spiritual discipline to stay the course despite the rising heat.
The next morning when I rose, I consciously chose to enter this reality through the doorway of listening to queer Black feminist writer/thinker/poet Alexis Pauline Gumbs. I was struck by her dreaming of the house being on fire and waking to the smell of smoke, & searching her home for a fire. My five-year old nibbling in California had a terrifying nightmare about a volcano, where everything was lost but her mama saved her. An eerily warm, dry October led to a brush fire last week in Prospect Park, NY — an area which is not prone to wildfires or drought. But here we are, burning.
At the same time, I am blessed to be a participant in the Hearth liberation lab, where one of our teachers & space-holders, Juliana Santoyo, said in our opening retreat this summer that rivers of grief need to flow to cool this burning earth. Having recently lost a beloved to cancer, I have many fresh lessons from grief. Every time I feel like I get my head above water, another wave pulls me under. Struggling to catch my breath, I get exhausted, and can feel defeated & despairing, until I remember - my body is mostly water. Staying afloat is what we are made for.
I. Grief has taught me
to be okay with extreme silence
long rivers of it
I will not drown today.
II. Grief has taught me
to befriend mystery
to drink in sunsets
& swallow starlight
I will not give up beauty or hope today.
Tapas also means to give out warmth, or to shine. Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl has famously said - “what is to give light must endure burning”. The Hindi word for fire, agni, feels intimately related to the English word agony. In this moment, I feel the impending threats to people and communities I care about deeply, and the safety and privileges I have. I am also listening to movement leaders' guidance for trusting ourselves and taking the time to connect - with self and others, and ultimately with our political homes. Towards that, I want to make an invitation for you to reflect and ground, so we can prepare to endure, to give light -
What are you called to be/come?
Where are you compelled to go/ do?
Who are you calling on for support - living and/or ancestors?
What formations or organizations do you want to deepen/move with?
Where can you contribute your resources - your time, talents & treasures?
What is grounding me -
LISTEN
Undrowned author Alexis Pauline Gumbs talks about Audre Lorde’s bicentennial poem applied to this moment, the first 100 days of finding your own power, and some beautiful questions that evoke values & commitments.
READ
10 Ways to Be Prepared And Grounded Now That Trump Has Won - Daniel Hunter wrote this article before the election, when it had the word “if” in the title. This article’s existence is proof that preparing for the worst can help us when it happens.
REFLECT
The Social Change Ecosystem Map created by Deepa Iyer has been a guiding light in anchoring in my roles and finding ways to contribute. I hope you can ground in yours.
GEMS
A poem by my dear friend Sahar Romani With Friends - This poem seems timely to bring back, while I also have the pleasure of sharing that you can read it in her newly published chapbook: The Opening, winner of the Poetry Society of America’s chapbook contest.
A song by Mashrou Leila - Radio Romance “to those who haven’t given up / love is resistance”
I leave you with this quote that calms my heart and hones my focus.
“Kindness eases change. Love quiets fear. And a sweet and powerful positive obsession blunts pain, diverts rage, and engages each of us in the greatest, the most intense of our chosen struggles.” —Octavia Butler